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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26828575">The worst honeymoon.</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/skinsuit/pseuds/eldritchcatpossum'>eldritchcatpossum (skinsuit)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Magnus Archives (Podcast)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>All I know about Torquay is from Fawlty Towers, Canon Typical Horror, Disaster honeymoon, LonelyEyes, M/M, evil doers eviling, tw: some homophobia</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 11:14:46</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,002</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26828575</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/skinsuit/pseuds/eldritchcatpossum</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Peter and Elias are on their fourth honeymoon and the hotel room only has one bed-- not what they ordered.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Elias Bouchard/Peter Lukas</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>79</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The worst honeymoon.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>beta read by speccyferret.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Peter had decided the marriage was over before the honeymoon had even begun. He knew from the way Elias was glaring at him from over the top of his newspaper as they sat in the train compartment. They were going to scenic Torquay.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So, why are we doing this?” Peter asked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Really Peter, is it too much to ask for a little romance from my husband?” Elias asked venomously.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It was your idea Elias,” Peter protested.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, I let you pick where we were going,” Elias said.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s not really a honeymoon if it’s just a weekend; even my parents spent ten days together,” Peter Lukas said, with a grimace at the thought of spending that much time alone with anyone.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I can hardly take all that time away from the institute,” Elias said, “You know that darling. We should make it count, why Torquay?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Because you let me pick. It’s not the tourist season; it’s not going to be busy this time of year,” Peter said cheerfully.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Quite,” Elias rolled his eyes and went back to reading his paper.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was raining when they got there, unexpectedly heavily. Peter smiled to himself. The wait for the cab was awful, silent and damp, as they hadn’t packed an umbrella or raincoats. Elias continued to glare at him but now he did so from under an increasingly sodden copy of the Daily Mail. By the time the cab arrived Elias looked rather like a drowned rat. Peter chuckled to himself; this was priceless really. Then Elias grabbed at him and shoved himself under Peter’s coat. Now he was damp too.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The cab finally arrived and they rode in a sullen, moist silence. Then the radio in the cab began to play: ‘Love will tear us apart’. Their eyes met and briefly they grinned for a moment. They danced to that song at their third wedding, awkward really. Elias had lead, of course.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When they arrived at bed &amp; breakfast Elias told the cabbie that, yes his wife was cheating on him and she never loved him. The man sobbed helplessly into his steering wheel, Peter smiled, then sighed. The only decent thing to do was to send the man into the lonely, really.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Elias was waiting in the hotel lobby, pressing the bell on the desk, and eventually a tall middle aged man with dark hair and mustache came out the back room.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hello, I think we have a reservation under Bouchard-Lukas?” Elias said in his normal calm voice.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, it’s under Lukas-Bouchard,” Peter interrupted. “I should know, I made it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The man looked at them and their rings. There was something unpleasant in that look.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry, our computer had a glitch and wiped out most of the reservation data.” The man said hurriedly. “I don’t know if we can get you two a room.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No it hasn’t, you are just a sad little bigot,” Elias said steel in his voice. “You can get us a room, and you will, or everyone will know exactly about Majorie in Stockport.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The man behind the desk sputtered and went pale. “How did you? I never—“</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Can you get us a room please, it's our honeymoon?” Elias said.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The man went back to the computer typing away rapidly, staring owlishly at the screen he said, “Ah, here we are, third floor room four. Enjoy your stay!” and handed them a key.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The man had said it in a venomous tone. Peter was a bit unnerved, by that. However Elias beamed back just as sparkling and hard,</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh we will, very much so.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And they ascended the stairs.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Who’s Marjorie?” Asked Peter.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No one, just one of the fake accounts he posts positive reviews about this wretched place about,” Elias said grinning.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There was a pause. “Fake reviews?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” Elias said.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh,” Peter shifted their luggage nervously. “That’s a thing?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Elias gave a frustrated sigh, “Yes, but I thought you didn’t use computers.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Of course not,” Peter lied. He didn’t really use computers, but it was the computer or asking for recommendations from their friends, who’s taste was questionable to put it lightly. So he had used ‘the google’.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Peter, you gullible fool,” Elias growled as they had just finished ascending the second set of stairs.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There were two rooms on the third floor; room three, and at the end of the wood paneled hallway in a brass lettering; room four. Elias produced the key, turned the lock and they entered the room. Elias flicked on the light, it flickered and produced a weak orange glow. Even Peter could tell the beige and puce floral patterned wallpaper was at least twenty years out of date. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The threadbare beige carpet had a nice lonely look. There was a particle board desk overlooking the window, the toilet was gurgling in the en-suite, and there was a greying armchair upholstered in some rough looking fabric. A small flat screen television and particle board nightstand also adorned the room. Worst of all was the bed; a double bed with a canary yellow duvet covering it. At home they had separate bedrooms for very good reasons.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Did you mention in the reservation that we wanted </span>
  <em>
    <span>two</span>
  </em>
  <span> beds?” Elias asked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes, I’m sure I did,” Peter said, staring at the one double bed in the center of the cramped room. “Anyhow, it is our honeymoon…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Quite.” Elias said sharply, “Now then, Peter, what would your patron think of this?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Errr,” Peter recalled that the Lonely would not favor such prolonged intimacy with anyone. He tried to think of something more cheerful for him . “Remember our first honeymoon, the one you picked. We were going to France, Italy and Greece right?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Peter no-” Elias closed his eyes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“-However being so far from the institute made you quite sick if I recall, if I didn’t know better I’d said you had the bends,” Peter continued on pleasantly, “Between the fatigue and vomiting, it was so much fun. We never left the hotel in Paris.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I can guess which point you think you are making, Peter, and it’s not working,” Elias sneered.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s not as bad as that,” He looked out the rain pelting upon the window and the grey sky beyond. “Besides; we’ve got perfect weather.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Elias scowled at the view. “I’m going to take a bath. Find us a place to eat and try to remember I already know the state of the kitchens.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>While Elias was taking a bath Peter dug out an aging guide to Torquay from under the nightstand and looked up places to eat, deciding never to trust the internet again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, we are not going to the Taj Mahal,” Elias called from the bathroom. “I do not need that much grease in my digestive system and we both know what vindaloo does to you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How’s the bath, luv?” Peter asked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Lukewarm and so small you couldn’t drown a mouse in it, darling,” Elias said.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Peter rolled his eyes and looked down at the next entry:</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I just found a nice little bistro—“ Peter began.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Peter, that guide is from five years ago, the bistro sadly closed.” Elias said.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Peter looked at the guide’s cover again and- yes, of course it was.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“For someone who complains, you are spending a awful long time in the bath,” Peter commented as he turned the page. “How about The A—“</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s closed for the season,” Elias sang out poisonously.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And so it went. Every place Peter mentioned was either closed for the season, closed forever or was met with a ‘I can see their kitchens Peter, and trust me you don’t want to.’.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Peter was hungry, for food and not just for misery. There was one place left; he knew they’d be open.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Alright, I’ve decided Elias.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>No</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Peter we are not—“</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Are the kitchens so bad we can’t survive?” Peter cut in,</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, but—“ Elias began.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“They are open, Elias, and I know you don’t object to the food,” Peter said, “I’ve seen you eat it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Elias came out of the bathroom in a robe. “Fine. But </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> Peter, is this what you want on your honeymoon?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Peter shrugged, he didn’t care at this point; with the mood Elias was in, he doubted anything romantic was going to happen.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The local chippy could have been anywhere in the country really, what with the plastic tables, and the drunks in the corner passed out. Peter ordered some battered haddock, chips and a saveloy. Elias simply got a small cup of a tea. The  woman behind the counter reeked of the Lonely, and Peter considered feeding her to it- but after all, he was on his honeymoon.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Elias was scowling at his tea as he sat in one of the plastic chairs. He wasn’t even drinking it.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Don’t you want anything else luv?” </span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” Elias said, before taking half of Peter’s chips and seasoning them heavily with malt vinegar. He began eating them morosely.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Peter had finished his haddock and was eating the saveloy when he noticed Elias was stealing the remainder of his chips.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Really Elias?” He sighed and stabbed his new husband gently in the hand with a plastic fork.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Elias looked Peter right in the eye and stole another three chips. Peter just sighed, knowing somehow Elias was going to put the fork nudge in the divorce proceedings. It was sort of charming, knowing how the awful man ticked, he thought, smiling as he finished off his saveloy. Elias guarded his stolen chips like a prisoner and gobbled them with haste. When they left Elias threw out his tea,  untouched.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They took a walk around the harbor after; it was still raining, overcast, and the boats bobbing on grey water made Peter smile. Elias looked damp and like he would gruesomely murder the next person they saw. Perfect. Peter reached out for his hand to Elias.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, Peter, nothing like that is going to happen this weekend and we both know it,” Elias said.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You sure? How about a kiss?” Peter asked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Elias rolled his eyes heavenwards but stood on his tiptoes and gave Peter a peck on the cheek.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Happy?” Elias hissed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Very,” Peter smiled, “A favor from my beloved.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Elias laughed, it was meant to be bitter, but then Peter joined in. Oh this was a farce, wasn’t it? But it was their farce.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>~~~~~~</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Back at the bed and breakfast, Elias sat on the bed, watching some horrible reality program on the telly while Peter did a crossword.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Luv, what’s seven down?” Peter asked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Elias shook his head.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You want me to use my Beholding powers so you don’t have to figure out crossword clues?”</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“Yes.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Elias threw a pillow at him and Peter dodged it. “Maybe you can’t. Maybe, finding out someone’s horrible trauma is easy, but the Beholding doesn’t do crossword clues, it’s alright to admit it, Elias.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Peter, you </span>
  <em>
    <span>ass</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Elias muttered then stared into space for a moment, seemingly concentrating. “It’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>equestrian</span>
  </em>
  <span>. There; see.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ah, good. Now, four across?” Peter asked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Elias threw the other pillow at him.</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>~~~</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <span>Now it was night and both of them were tired. They separately tested the armchair and both had found the fabric a bit too rough against the skin and hidden springs that poked them. So they eyed the bed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Do you even need to sleep?” Peter asked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes, unfortunately I have to maintain the basic needs of my body,” Elias sneered. “Can’t you just sleep in the Lonely?”</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Peter scoffed, “You think the One Alone would let me sleep? Oh bless.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, I suppose we have to share a bed,” Elias sighed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes…” Peter replied dolefully.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You know, Peter, there is </span>
  <em>
    <span>something</span>
  </em>
  <span> we could do that would help us sleep,” Elias said with a sly smile.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, I didn’t pack the chamomile-valerian tea,” Peter announced.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Peter that’s not what I—” Elias began.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“—And you’re fooling yourself if you think either of us will get very far after that meal,” Peter said.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Elias deflated. “Yes, you’re right, don’t want a repeat of last honeymoon.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Nope,” Peter remembered that incident.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They dressed for bed, Elias took the left side, Peter took the right. One of them clicked off the light.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“This mattress is horrible,” Elias groaned.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It is rather terrible,” Peter agreed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s too hard.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s too soft.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I need more pillows.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You can have one of mine,” Peter offered.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Thank you, darling.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There was the sound of the duvet rustling and bed springs creaking.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I said one pillow Elias, not all of them,” Peter grumbled.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You don’t like pillows-! I’ve seen your room Peter, you only have that old, flat </span>
  <em>
    <span>miserable</span>
  </em>
  <span> pillow from the Tundra on your bed,” Elias said.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes but I wanted </span>
  <em>
    <span>one</span>
  </em>
  <span> bloody pillow,” Peter muttered. “And that pillow is from Moorland House actually.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Fine. It's an antediluvian pillow,” Elias groaned. “Now can we get some sleep hmmm—“ There was rustling, followed by a thump. “What on Earth?!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I took back my pillow.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Really? This is </span>
  <em>
    <span>childish</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Elias groaned.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You need help back on the bed?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, I think I can manage myself,” There was a growl to Elias’ voice. There was more creaking and rustling, and another grumble.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Stop poking me-!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You need to stop rolling on my fingers,” Elias countered.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m not; you take up all the bloody room,” Peter said.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s a small bed. Really Peter, where do you expect me to sleep?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t expect you to sleep like  a starfish, or be as pointy as a  toast rack,” Peter said.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I am comfortable. How about you get comfortable, Peter?” Elias said.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Very well,” Peter said.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There was a loud rustling sound and an indignant yelp.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You stole all the blankets!” Elias yelled.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m comfortable now, ” Peter said.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m freezing Peter,” Elias complained.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Peter didn’t respond, as he was starting to drift off.  Then something touched his toe, something like an ice cube wrapped in a glacier.  “What was that?!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“My foot,” Elias said, “Really, I told you I was cold.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There was some rustling as Elias took back the blankets, or at least his share of them.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Will you at least put your sleeping mask tonight, Luv,” Peter said. “You sleep with your eyes open. It’s creepy.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Fine,” Elias grumbled and reached over on the nightstand to put it on. “You are very picky for someone who snores like a diesel engine.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mmmpphh, just go to sleep, Luv,” Peter mumbled huddling tightly on his thin sliver of the bed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I have some nightmares to appear in…” Elias murmured.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Neither of them slept well. The mattress, which was goldilocks’ nightmare - being neither soft or hard enough to be comfortable - was lumpy enough that Peter kept getting elbowed in the ribs, and Elias woke at odd moments to the sounds of his husband’s deep and bizarre rumbling snore.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They finally drifted off.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Then Peter awoke abruptly as Elias shouted loudly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Jon, I did not give you permission to turn into a flamingo!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Elias was asleep of course, but sitting bolt upright in the bed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Elias?” Peter asked and nudged him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Elias’ fist shot out and he backhanded Peter in the face. After a moment he took off his sleeping mask. “Peter! Don’t wake me  up like that again!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Peter clutched his nose, which thankfully wasn’t bleeding, but was definitely sore. “I forgot about your startle reflex.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Quite,” Elias said with a sniff, before laying down and falling back to sleep almost instantly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hours drifted by. Sleep came and went, fitfully. Eventually Peter groggily saw the sun peeking over the curtains, so he got up and went to the window. A red sunrise. He glanced over at the bed; Elias was in the middle, arms and legs spread far, staring in that unfocused way of his that meant he was actually asleep. He was snoring; tiny little wheezing snores. After a short while Peter went to the bathroom for his morning shower. He had to stoop to use it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hours had gone by, and it was now about 9:00 am. He could hear Elias’s dulcet tones talking to someone, he was chuckling that was… a good thing?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Peter got out the shower and went back to the bedroom. “Good Morning Luv, you seem happier.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh Peter, Darling,” Elias said, putting down his mobile. “I’ve just arranged for us to leave this blasted place and a old friend to come by…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh?” Peter asked. “Who?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’ll see, now I need a shower, if you haven’t used all the hot water.” Elias said sweetly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Peter sat down on the bed. He didn’t exactly know how to use a phone, but he did risk a glance at it, and when he saw the name of the last caller he cracked a smile.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>At breakfast they ate toast with marmalade. They drank tea. Elias had a  chocolate croissant, and Peter a buttered crumpet. The owner watched them suspiciously from behind a potted plant as if at any moment they were going to shuck their clothes and have at it right there on the table. They read the paper, and kissed once sweetly. Yes, this honeymoon had been a bust, but maybe the marriage wasn’t going to be a total loss.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They checked out; the owner of the sad little place looking so happy and smug. Oh well.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As they left, a new guest entered.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hello, Miss-“ Began the owner.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Perry.” Said the new guest.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> “Do you have a reservation?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No,” said Jude Perry with a laugh. There was the whoosh of  flame and an anguished scream. As Peter and Elias took the cab back to the train station they doubled over laughing.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You called in that favor, didn’t you?” Peter asked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” Elias said, wiping a tear from his eye. “The best part is the horrid man put his whole savings into that dump!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh that’s too perfect!” Peter said and began to laugh again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>On the train home the conductor who took their tickets mused that he’d seldom seen a happier, more in love couple.</span>
</p><p><br/>
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